She was dressed in black velvet; she looked high and splendid, as he had said, and yet oh so radiantly gentle! We know what Mr.Rosier thought of her and the terms in which, to Madame Merle, he had expressed his admiration.

Like his appreciation of her dear little stepdaughter it was based partly on his eye for decorative character, his instinct for authenticity; but also on a sense for uncatalogued values, for that secret of a "lustre" beyond any recorded losing or rediscovering, which his devotion to brittle wares had still not disqualified him to recognise.

Mrs.Osmond, at present, might well have gratified such tastes.

The years had touched her only to enrich her; the flower of her youth had not faded, it only hung more quietly on its stem.

She had lost something of that quick eagerness to which her husband had privately taken exception--she had more the air of being able to wait.